


touched

by MartyMiaMatt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (implied) established relationship, Fluff, Intimacy, Light Dirty Talk, Light Praise Kink, M/M, Physical Contact, Undercover lovers, soft klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMiaMatt/pseuds/MartyMiaMatt
Summary: Lance finds him, in the darkness, through touch and smell alone, without words.





	touched

**Author's Note:**

> For Mads. 
> 
> This was supposed to be fluff. Who am I kidding. I only write smut.  
> A somewhat companion piece to "skin", but it can be read separately.
> 
> While I was writing this, "Stripped" by Shiny Toy Guns was constantly in my mind.

Keith’s breath is so hot on his lips.

It makes his skin tingle, the blood race to the surface of his cheeks. Lance breathes him in, sucking in the air through his own open mouth, letting it fill up his nostrils. Keith’s _scent_. It’s _him_ , it could be nobody else but him. And it’s _everywhere_.

 

Lance moves slowly, crawling inch by inch over the mattress. His knee touches Keith’s leg.

Palming across the tangle of sheets, his fingers bump against the back of one of Keith’s hands. His bare hands.

Keith stills, just a little; but then the mattress softly shifts under their weight as Keith adjusts on the bed, until he’s sitting with his legs crossed opposite to Lance, in an almost specular manner.

 

Lance finds him, in the darkness, through touch and smell alone, with no need for words.

His fingertips glide over Keith’s hand that he’s been holding. He finds short, blunt nails; the slender forms of Keith’s fingers, then the sharp ridges of his knuckles.

Without saying anything, Keith pliantly turns his arm to offer Lance the vulnerability of the soft, smooth skin of the inside of his wrist, and the veins lightly protruding, the tender pulsing of blood beneath.

 

A small sound, not quite a laugh – Keith’s laughter is rare, even though Lance kind of wishes that it weren’t -, maybe something more like a sigh or a snort.

One of Keith’s hands settles securely on Lance’s nape, bringing their faces closer.

Lance’s breath hitches.

“… Keith?”

Nose. Forehead. Mouth.

No longer knowing what to do with his own hands, Lance cups Keith’s left cheek. The other’s skin is less scalding there, just warm enough, cooled down by the cold temperature in the room around them.

Keith hums again, leaning into the touch.

 

He turns his head a little to the left. Lance can’t see him, not really – only shadows on shadows. He’d already turned off all the lights when Keith came to him, earlier.

He’s startled, suddenly, being dragged back to the present moment.

Soft lips part against his palm. Keith’s wet, open mouth, wet breath, the tip of his tongue lazily licking into Lance’s skin.

Lance lets out a small breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Sharp teeth drag against his thumb, scraping him lightly, then Keith’s mouth sucks it in.

 

Lance shakes. His grip on Keith’s face tightens for a moment, around his jaw, before he lets go, not wanting to hurt him.

Keith retreats, releasing him.

Lance can imagine the way he’s licking his lips now, blinking slowly. He wishes he could see if Keith’s cheeks are blushing.

“Lance.”

Keith’s voice is sharp.

“Come here. Closer.”

 

Lance’s heart drums in his chest.

He’ll never admit it out loud, to Keith, not in a million years; but there is very little he wouldn’t do, when Keith calls his name with that voice.

 

So, he obeys.

He puts his hands down on the mattress and scoots a little closer, still, until he almost crushes against Keith’s knees. Instead of apologizing, he nudges Keith’s face with his nose. He spreads his arms open, welcoming the way Keith’s body slides into place, fitting nearly perfectly against his own.  

 

Keith straddles him, putting his arms around Lance’s neck and planting his knees at either side of Lance’s legs. He presses his thighs against Lance’s hips, strong, solid muscles flexing under the fabric of his pants.

Lance holds him, sliding his hands down the expanse of Keith’s back. He slips them under the hem of Keith’s t-shirt, and feels him shiver a little at the contact. Lance traces slow circles and lines over Keith’s naked skin, allowing him to acclimatize. Well, it’s nobody’s fault that the Castle of Lions has had to stop for supplies on a planet where the weather is a perpetual winter, and the heating system has been down for the last two days.

 

Lance lets his palms glide down Keith’s spine; he reaches past the waistband of his pants, then dips them inside Keith’s boxers. He grabs and squeezes his ass, hard, and Keith hums appreciatively and rocks his hips a little back and forth, rubbing himself against Lance’s crotch.

Lance keeps kneading his fingertips into Keith’s ass, massaging him deeply and slowly. He frees his right hand and brings it back to Keith’s upper body, lifting up his shirt to run his palm across Keith’s stomach. His navel, the jutting blades of his ribs. The firm knots of muscles of his abdomen.

There are scars on Keith’s skin; an intricate pattern of older and newer cuts and scratches, the withered, lightly jutting flesh a little harder than the rest under his fingers. Keith goes very still and silent as Lance touches him, but doesn’t pushes him away.

Lance doesn’t remember their pattern by heart; he realizes that some of these are recent enough he hasn’t seen them.

His index and middle finger come to a stop on a spot on the right, just a little below Keith’s chest, when Keith abruptly sucks in a sharp breath.

 

 “Ah…! Sorry.” Lance moves his hand away. “You alright?”

 

“’s okay,” Keith hisses through gritted teeth. “Just. Careful. Bruises,” he mutters, almost as if he’s ashamed to admit a normal, human possibility such as this.

Lance hugs him closer, but gently this time, carefully.

“I’ll be careful,” he promises. “We can turn on the lights, if you want, you know.”

Frankly, it would be the sensible option.

He feels Keith shake his head.

“No. Later,” Keith whispers.

Lance finds his mouth. He kisses him, slowly, sliding his lips over Keith’s, somehow finding the right angle to not crush their noses or clash their teeth together. Those are things that have happened, other times. He runs his thumb over Keith’s lower lip, after pulling away, and leaves kisses along Keith’s hairline, along his temple, again chasing his smell.

 

He starts running his hand all over Keith’s body again. He’s more delicate this time, just grazing the skin with the tips of his fingers.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” His hands settle at Keith’s waist. Keith groans, a little, instinctively tensing and trying to pull away at those words. Lance gently keeps him there. “You’ve gotten so strong. I can feel it.” He kisses Keith’s throat, right under his chin. “I shouldn’t tell you, because you’ll let it go to your head and then your ego will become even bigger than it already is,” his whisper turns into a small chuckle, “but it’s the truth, Keith.”

His voice turns into a gentle whisper near the end, and he leaves another small kiss on Keith’s lips.

Lance slides his hands down Keith’s shoulders, softly rubbing his forearms. The tension there melts little by little, under his fingers. “Aw… a little roughed up, aren’t you? You’re working so hard,” Lance continues. “You’re a warrior. And you have the marks to prove it.”

 

Keith moans a little, squirming in Lance’s lap. He presses his chest against Lance’s body, curls his spine and his hips to press himself even harder against him.

“… You too,” he mutters finally, his voice a bit muffled, as if he’s biting his lip.

Lance smiles to himself a bit, fondly, because he knows that Keith is no good at expressing what he feels, especially if it’s praise; but he’s _trying_ , and that’s more than enough for him.

 

“You’re good, too,” Keith reiterates, more clearly, startling him.

Fingers grab strands of Lance’s hair, nails scratch at his scalp. Keith’s palms are filled with Lance’s hair, half caressing, half yanking on it, and suddenly Keith’s warm mouth is on his neck and Keith’s teeth sink in, sending little flares of pain all through his body.

“All the galaxy looks at you. Team Voltron’s handsome _sharpshooter_...”

Lance gasps. Keith’s lips on his neck curl up into a little smirk.

 

Keith yanks insistently at Lance’s shirt, pushing it up. Lance lifts his arms and lets Keith slide it off of him, tossing it somewhere on the bed.

It’s Keith’s hands now that wander over Lance’s skin, fast and greedy, gripping and scraping at every inch they can get. Keith claims his mouth again, kissing him breathlessly, pushing his tongue between Lance’s teeth. Lance opens his mouth with an inarticulate moan.

He feels Keith’s hands brush against the layer of bandages he’s wearing around his waist, just above his navel. He senses his hesitation. Keith wasn’t there when it happened, and Lance didn’t tell him about it.

“Don’t worry about that,” Lance murmurs encouragingly in his ear. “Go on,” he urges. “I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

 

Keith breathes out, as if in relief, and then he grips both of Lance’s wrists in a tight grip, like when they used to spar together in the training room and they’d try to see who could pin the other down for longer. He resolutely drags Lance’s hands back on his hips, on his thighs; then he leads Lance’s open palms on his crotch.

Lance stills, making a soft little noise.

“Ah…”

 

He presses his palm harder down on the bulge inside Keith’s pants, thumbing at the outline of his dick. He smiles, teasing with his fingers the hardening flesh under the layers of synthetic fabric.

“Mm, Keith.” He slides one hand inside, past pants and underwear, and Keith’s nails dig into his shoulders. He touches him, a little, palm flat feeling up the heavy, tense length of Keith’s cock.

He pulls it out of the waistband, gently sliding his index finger up and down, briefly toying with his testicles before going up to the tip again.

“Do you… miss me when you’re away?” Lance rubs the pad of his thumb in small circles on the head of Keith’s cock. Keith shivers and trembles, squeezing Lance with his thighs.

“When you’re training with the Blade… all cool and brooding in your black uniform…”

Keith’s hips snap against him, but Lance doesn’t give him the chance to slip away. He brings his other hand to the curve of Keith’s ass, teases with one finger at his entrance, without pushing it in.

“Do you hide somewhere to jerk off? Touch yourself at night when you’re alone?”

Keith groans, his hand clenching and unclenching on Lance’s shoulder.

“What do you think about, hm?” Lance sucks and nibbles at Keith’s earlobe. “Not gonna tell me, Keith…?”  

 

Keith drops his head in the crook between Lance’s neck and left shoulder, whimpering.

“Get _on_ with it,” he growls.

 

Lance lazily pets his head.

“No need to be impatient,” he murmurs, triumphantly, grinning as he resumes lavishing Keith’s dick with brief, teasing touches.

 

His upper hand lasts briefly.

The grip of Keith’s legs around his waist tightens. With one arm Keith grabs Lance’s torso, just under his armpits, and pushes him down on the mattress with his full weight.

Trapping Lance under him, he grabs one of his long legs, and sits down between Lance’s thighs.

 

Leaning down, Keith licks a slow, long stripe along the middle of Lance’s abdomen.

He closes his lips around Lance’s right nipple, lightly pulling it between his teeth, swirling his tongue around the small, sensitive spot.

Lance trembles, but Keith keeps pushing him down with both hands on his chest. He pulls away with a wet noise, hovering over him.

“Are you going to do something, or are you just going to talk?” he whispers in Lance’s ear.

 

Lance’s hands find his, interlacing their fingers. Lance pulls Keith down, sliding his legs around Keith’s back and hooking his calves onto Keith’s legs.

Lance kisses him, and Keith kisses him back, breathing hard. They’re chest to chest, the heat of Lance’s bare chest spreading under the fabric of Keith’s shirt.

In the darkness of the room, Lance smiles. It doesn’t matter, now, that Keith cannot see him.

“Let me _show_ you,” Lance suggests, quietly, happily, and rolls onto his hip, bringing Keith down with him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "oh no the heating is down whatever are we going to do" is the most gimmicky gimmick that ever gimmicked. I know. Fight me.  
> Also, I look at characters I love and my first instinct is to go, "Fine, but you know what they need? More bruises and scars."  
> Finally, why is it that I only write Klance where they akwardly sniff each other. Why is this a thing.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♡ If you want to, let me know what you think.


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